don’t love doubt

you could probably do it too,
if you spent as much time doing what
they do, you could do it. think
about it: a novelist takes two to five years,
at four hours a day to write a novel,
rarely more; most are spent after that, unless
you’re a coked up Stephen King, in 1978
to ’86. so notwithstanding some coked up phenom,
it takes four hours a day, five years at a stretch.
How could you not write a novel in that amount of time?
remove the magic.

there’s nothing
miraculous about
human
accomplishment.

what
appears to be
miraculous is merely the
accumulation of the
best available knowledge, sorted
and weeded through through
trail and error and years and decades
and terrible hours of terrible frust-
ration and sickness and difficulty just to
finish it and realize that the miraculous part was not in the product but in the fact that you stuck it out and did it, one day at a time, word after word, day in and day out, through all the doubt and turned up noses and questioning glances. and the product appears to be miraculous because most people cannot imagine dedication to such a torturous profession as… well —

what ever the fuck it takes to do what you want.

And that makes it miraculous.
So be a basketball star, be a novelist, be a poet, be who you are and do it for yourself because you love something bigger than doubt.